CHAPTER 220: SIDE STORY: VELYRIAN.

[Six thousand years ago.]

[1023 E.D.]

The sun shone high in the sky as Velyrian moved in the plain of grass.

His long blonde hair was tied in a braided ponytail as his eyes were tired but focused.

It had been more than six months since he had come to the past.

The time he had spent here had been hard, to say the least.

Everything that he had come to know and learn about the past was all but a lie.

Those historians in his prime taught him about the benevolence of the elves.

But it was anything but that.

The elves were ruthless conquerors who took anything and everything they wanted.

They sent armies to places far away from the mainland.

They killed, raped, and looted whatever they could find in the way.

Time and time again, Velyrian had seen how bad his race was in the past.

But...

It wasn’t like he had a say in all this.

After all, now he was one of the generals who was leading an army.

Ieril had made him one of her main generals.

And with the new body, Velyrian was strong enough to survive the role.

"Huff...."

He let out a sigh as he looked around the place.

The entire area was covered with snow as cold bit into their bones.

The sun burned his eyes as Velyrian looked up at the sky.

It was afternoon and they still had a long way to go.

"We will take a break here!" Velyrian said, making the army of thousands stop behind him.

The army halted, their heavy boots sinking into the snow.

Soldiers dropped their packs with relief, some collapsing onto the frozen ground while others immediately set about pitching small fires.

The air was filled with the sound of armor clanking and weary voices muttering complaints about the cold.

Velyrian rubbed his gloved hands together, his breath fogging in the air.

His body no longer tired as easily as before, but the sight of the men suffering still weighed on him.

These weren’t heroes of the glorious elven empire history had painted.

They were tired, starving, and brutalized soldiers, forced to fight wars they barely understood.

He turned his gaze toward the horizon. White plains stretched endlessly, with no sign of villages, no sign of resistance.

Only the silence of land that had already been stripped bare.

Behind him, one of his captains approached, saluting with a fist against his chest. "General, shall we send scouts further north?"

Velyrian nodded. "Do it. But keep them sharp. The Frost Giants here are stubborn. They don’t fight fair, and I don’t blame them."

The captain bowed his head before marching off, barking orders.

Left alone, Velyrian exhaled slowly.

Six months in this past, and every day reminded him of truths his time had buried.

The elves were not victims, not saviors.

They were predators who carved empires with fire and blood.

His hands curled into fists. And now I am one of them.

He adjusted his cloak and walked through the camp.

Soldiers straightened when he passed, their respect genuine but laced with fear.

They had seen what he could do on the battlefield, how his new body tore through enemies like a storm.

To them, he was not just a general, but a weapon given shape.

He hated it.

As he neared the edge of the camp, he spotted a figure standing atop a small rise, her golden hair blowing in the wind.

Even here, surrounded by snow and bloodshed, she looked untouched.

But she was only visible to him and nobody else.

"Ven Core." Velyrian growled as he walked towards her.

"You called the halt," she said, her voice calm but edged with command.

"Why have you sent me—."

"I asked a question."

Velyrian glared at her but didn’t bother to fight more.

For six months he had been asking the reason for going into the past but she remained silent.

He clicked his tongue as he leaned on the boulder.

"They’re exhausted," Velyrian replied. "Another march without rest, and half of them will freeze before we reach the next settlement."

Her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but not disapproval either.

"You care for them too much. They are tools, Velyrian. Tools break, and we replace them. That is the way of conquest."

Velyrian met her gaze, unflinching. "Tools don’t bleed. Tools don’t scream when they die. These men do."

For a moment, silence hung between them.

"You are different," she said softly. "That is why I chose you."

Velyrian clenched his jaw. "Chosen for what exactly?"

The Ven Core who had taken the figure of a woman remained silent.

A second passed before she replied. "The Golden Sun wanted someone to lead the elves." She replied. "Ieril is good but she is not the best."

"And what makes you think I am?" Velyrian asked. "Why bother with me—."

"You are the slave of the Golden Sun." She cut him off. "She isn’t."

Velyrian bit his lips till they bled. "So, how can I—!"

"You chose to be a slave." She replied coldly. "And that was your destiny."

Velyrian’s fists tightened as the words echoed in his head.

A slave.

No matter how much power he had, no matter how much he bled for this army, that was all he was in their eyes.

His breath came out ragged in the frozen air.

"Destiny," he repeated, his tone flat. "That’s what you call it? This stupid—."

Ven Core’s expression didn’t change. Her golden hair shimmered faintly, but her voice was cold as ever.

"You accepted the chains the moment you reached for power," she replied.

"You may resent it now, but you cannot deny it. The Golden Sun gave you what no elf, no human, no giant could possess. That power binds you to her."

Velyrian laughed bitterly. It was short, harsh, and empty. "And here I thought I was chosen for strength. For skill. Not because I bent the knee first."

"You misunderstand," Ven Core replied calmly. "The Golden Sun does not need the strongest. She needs the most obedient."

Velyrian turned his head, staring out across the snow where his soldiers huddled around fires.

Men who would march at his command, fight and die because he ordered it.

Wasn’t that obedience? Wasn’t that slavery too?

"I’ve seen what obedience makes us," he muttered. "An empire of butchers. A people who destroy more than they build. If that’s destiny, then I’ll damn it myself."

Ven Core’s eyes glinted, sharp as blades. "Careful, Velyrian. You speak rebellion, but your body already belongs to us. Even your rage is permitted only because the Golden Sun wills it. Do not forget your place."

Velyrian looked back at her, jaw tight. "You tell me not to forget my place, yet you claim I’m different. Which is it? Am I a slave, or something more?"

For the first time, she paused.

"You are nothing but a pawn," she replied as she vanished slowly. "The pawn that will be useful till your son-in-law comes here."

Ven Core vanished leaving him alone with his thoughts.

It wasn’t long before a voice echoed within the place.

"FROST GIANTS!!"

Velyrian looked towards the direction of the shout as he saw a few Giants killing his soldiers.

Velyrian let out a sigh as he took out his battle axe.

He leaned back, flexed his leg muscles, and jumped towards them.

The snow cracked beneath his landing, scattering white powder into the air.

Velyrian swung his battle axe in a wide arc, the weight of the weapon carrying enough force to split the first Frost Giant clean in half.

Blood sprayed against the snow, steaming in the cold.

The giant let out a guttural roar before collapsing, its massive frame shaking the ground.

The other giants snarled, turning toward him.

Their skin was pale blue, rough like stone, their eyes burning with hatred.

One lifted a crude club fashioned from a frozen tree trunk and swung down at him with crushing speed.

Velyrian braced, planting his feet firmly, and raised his axe to meet the blow.

The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, cracking the ice beneath him.

Soldiers nearby stumbled, some falling to their knees as the tremor ran through the camp.

"Form the lines!" a captain shouted. "Protect the general!"

But Velyrian didn’t need their protection. With a grunt, he twisted his axe, pushing the giant’s weapon aside, and surged forward.

His body moved faster than his mind, instincts honed sharper with every battle he’d been forced into since coming here.

He leapt, slamming the axe into the giant’s shoulder, cleaving deep into bone.

The creature howled, staggered, and fell backward, blood soaking the snow.

The third giant hesitated for a moment, then roared and charged at him, each step shaking the earth.

Velyrian tightened his grip on the axe, his breath fogging in the cold air.

He could feel the stares of his soldiers behind him, their fear mingled with awe.

Velyrian let out a sigh. "I just hope you took care of my daughter." He mumbled. "Akamir."

Velyrian jumped on the others.